


Six Stages of Envy

by buttrileskissed, cosmicking



Category: Degrassi
Genre: Angst, Jealousy, M/M, OC, because why the hell not, his name is patrick, obviously
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-15 19:07:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3458477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buttrileskissed/pseuds/buttrileskissed, https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicking/pseuds/cosmicking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They've been broken up for months now, and Tristan decides it's time to move on, to get someone who will actually appreciate him. He's gotten on better terms with his ex, he is his lab partner after all. If he's forced to spend 47 minutes a day with him, he'd rather it not be passive-aggressive childish banter. Miles has been putting up the biggest front for the past couple of months, pretending like he's been over Tristan. Then, this stupid fucking delinquent appears out of nowhere, attached to the hip of his ex, and all Miles can think about doing is holding a lighter to the bottom of his shirt. He's totally over Tristan, though. Totally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Six Stages of Envy

**Author's Note:**

> I changed the title because I'm uncultured swine and need to learn the difference between envy and jealousy.

_I'll beat his ass!_

I could basically feel a gust of wind as Tristan entered the room. Though, he didn't have on his usual attire. He was dressed in a tight galaxy t-shirt--I didn't even notice how tight it really was until I saw the outline of his softly-defined abs--and black, tight skinny jeans with a blue sweater tied around his waist. And I was definitely, for sure, not staring at his ass as he walked next to me. His familiar smell nearly had me on my knees right then and there, but that was before I noticed his hair. It was new, changed from dark brown to complete midnight black, and if I thought I could see the blue basically drowning me before, now I definitely did. I pretended like I wasn't totally staring at every feature, drinking him in, because really--I wasn't--and shifted in my seat when he sat down next to me. _Shit._ My palms were clammy within seconds, heat rising up my cheeks, and I had to ask myself again and again when I turned into a fucking schoolboy, or really, Tristan Milligan fanboy. He's driving me crazy and he's perfectly aware. He looked over and the ice from his eyes rolled up my back, giving me chills.  _  
_

"Morning, Hollingsworth." He gave a knowing, shit-eating grin. I'd say I'd like to smack it right off his face, but I'd rather take it away by shoving him up against a wall and connecting our lips. His, which I noticed were swollen and chapped, like they'd been tortured just moments prior of his "grand entrance." (It wasn't really too grand, but he still managed to blow me away.) I bit my own as I looked away and back to the Chem teacher who had just gotten in the classroom.

Cherry, swollen red was at the forefront of my mind the entire time, wondering what poor sucker had now been sucked in by his charm, because they're not getting out now. He's like a black hole, but a very enticing black hole that does not tear you to shreds, but rather, gets right underneath your skin when you least expect him to. Sucks you in and stays right there beneath your surface, like the salt from the sea. And he stays, even if you  _want_ him to leave, because somehow, he has a connection to you, even if he doesn't have Chemistry with you. (No pun intended.) He's really someone to get easily lost in, like a maze of ocean waves. Because, now I'm staring back into his eyes, and I need to fucking stop or I'm going to pour hot acid on us both.

"Whoa, WHOA. Careful there." He takes the test tube from me, his hand overlapping mine, and I can't help but want to grab it, which is why I'm grateful when he has the tongs in his hand and he's placing the vile on the stand, because I would've dropped it. 

"Sorry," I muttered, pushing the beaker next to the now sitting test tube and pouring the acid in with the liquid in the beaker and watching it bubble. Right now, not even a wood block would be jealous of the chemistry "brewing" between Tristan and I, at least on his end. I'll admit, I've hooked up with an ungodly amount of girls and guys within the past few months, but nothing sat right. I mean sure, the sex was hot and whatnot, but everything was too forced. I never really felt a connection. Not that I wanted one, really all I'd ask for at this point is a distraction, but I can't even  _be_ distracted. I'm not over him, dammit. Dammit all to hell. I bounced back from Maya and Zoe with flying colors but--

I am over him and this is all fucking ridiculous. It's all in my head. He's all that's in my head. I watched the bubbles in the tube boil over into the tray, almost like it was fueled by my pure emotion.

"You alright? You're oddly quiet today." A familiar, concerned tone snapped me out of my thoughts. I looked over to him as if I was clueless to what he was referring to, but it was obviously how out of it I am today, and I can't even say it's because I smoked a bowl before I came in. Because I didn't. I'm high on him. And on misery, but mostly him. I give him a quick, unhesitating nod before scribbling down some bullshit answer on the worksheet I'd nearly forgot we were given. I _really_ did _not_ feel like answering any questions about chemistry from anyone. 

"You seem a little agitated. What's on your mind?" He prompted, his hot breath rolling down my neck. I tensed as he moved a bit closer, but didn't expect that awkwardness to boil over into bitterness.

"Nothing. And since when do you care? It's not like we're actually friends here or whatever." I snapped, my tone harsh and cold. He backed his chair away with a muttered "Well, fuck you too," and wrote down the answers on his sheet. I hadn't meant to snap at him, but he's doing this purposely. Maybe his intent was not to drive  _me_ crazy, but someone else. Maybe the poor sucker who'd been sucking on his bottom lip earlier. While the teacher wasn't looking, I ducked out of the room and into the bathroom, which was, thankfully, empty. I threw some cool water on my face, staring at my burning red cheeks in the mirror. No one's ever screwed me up this badly. My head's twisted a little too thin for my own good. I dried my face off with the sleeve of my shirt, giving a sigh of relief when the bell sounded.

I heard giggling from outside the bathroom. Familiar giggling, playful giggling. I ducked out to see Tristan and some random guy talking, could've sworn I'd seen him in the Rubber Room. He has a blue hoodie draped over his shoulders, and Tristan has the brightest smile on his face. I should be happy. I should be fucking jumping off the walls at his happiness. He's happier with somebody else, what I wanted for him, why I let him go. Having it in front of my face is way different, though. It hurts. It leaves a burning desire in my chest to shove said random carrot top into a wall and beat him senseless. I feel my fist clench as I back behind the wall, hiding myself from view.

I hate him. I fucking hate him and I don't even know his name. For now, he is known as the ginger delinquent of my mind. One that I will have every and no problem beating to a bloody pulp.


End file.
